


You're Familiar Like My Mirror Years Ago

by StarofAntiquan



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Amnesia, Friendship, Garden of Eden, Gossip, M/M, Pining, The Nebulous Definition of Sin, The Unknowable Truth of Historical Narratives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 13:38:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19831348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarofAntiquan/pseuds/StarofAntiquan
Summary: It is a fact curiously overlooked by the legions of both Heaven and Hell, and utterly lost to the annals of human history, that the first sin committed in the Garden of Eden may not, in fact, have had anything to do with any Forbidden Fruit or the Eating Thereof. On the contrary, the act of Gossiping preceded the Eating of the Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil by around seventeen days, arguably making it the first sin ever committed by humanity.Or: Crowley perfected the art of gossiping long before it was even a sin, and the Biblical account of the Fall of Mankind contains more than a few inaccuracies.





	You're Familiar Like My Mirror Years Ago

**Author's Note:**

> For Eva - my constant companion in Screams™ and my very own Eve <3
> 
> Title from "From Eden" by Hozier.
> 
> EDIT: My wonderfully gloriously talented friend Alina has created an unbelievably gorgeous piece of art to go with this fic! You can find it [here](https://clamaanda.tumblr.com/post/187058300426)!

It is a fact curiously overlooked by the legions of both Heaven and Hell, and utterly lost to the annals of human history, that the first sin committed in the Garden of Eden may not, in fact, have had anything to do with any Forbidden Fruit or the Eating Thereof. On the contrary, the act of Gossiping preceded the Eating of the Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil by around seventeen days, arguably making it the first sin ever committed by humanity.

Of course, there are those who argue that Gossip was not declared a sin until a certain Divine Edict was handed down by the Almighty in the 3500s B.C. (in response to a rather remarkable amount of trouble stirred up by a gaggle of gossiping grandmothers in a Mesopotamian village of that era), and that any gossip preceding that date should not count as a sin. Given that this viewpoint in no way poses a contradiction to the official heavenly account of the Fall of Man being caused by a poor choice of afternoon snack, it is perhaps unsurprising that a majority of Heaven’s angels ascribe to this argument, and have therefore seen no need to issue any corrections to the Biblical narrative over the past few millennia.

On the other hand, it cannot be denied that Anthony J. Crowley has had a particular predilection for gossiping since he first stepped foot on earth, nor that Eve of Eden was his first conversational partner in that regard, so perhaps the matter is worth considering more closely.

(Of course, the Biblical account of the Fall of Man takes other liberties with the truth as well. But we’ll get to that later.)

\---

About a month after Creation was created, another perfectly ordinary day in the Garden of Eden experienced a minor interruption: a stirring in a small patch of secluded earth, which then bubbled upwards and burst to reveal the sinewy, serpentine body of the recently-Fallen former angel now known only as Crawly, forked tongue flickering between his jaws as he tasted his first breath of earthly air. Crawly hadn’t been expecting much of this newfangled in-between place he’d been assigned to, if he was being honest, but the reality came as a surprise almost immediately - these fresh scents of growth and bloom were nothing like the fast-fading memory of the sterile halls of Heaven, nor did they hold any of the reek and pestilence of Hell’s endless corridors. And the smell was just the beginning: the entire Garden of Eden lay before the Serpent, and like its creator before him, he saw that it was very good.

Well. That just wouldn’t do at all. He’d been sent up here with the specific goal of _preventing_ Earth from enjoying too much goodness, after all.

Taking in another deep breath of that sweet, clean air, and dearly hoping that none of the angels patrolling the Garden’s walls would think to smite him the instant he moved into the open, Crawly began to slither slowly forwards, still conscious of all the strange quirks and limitations of his serpentine form - there wasn’t exactly a lot of room to stretch your legs (or lack thereof, in this case) in Hell, so he wasn’t entirely accustomed to this body just yet.

As mission briefs go, “get up there and make some trouble” is undeniably vague by anyone’s standards, but given that all demonic intelligence suggested that God’s attention was focused on two recent creations known as “humans”, Crawly was working on the assumption that they’d be a good place to start causing the aforementioned trouble. Accordingly, he kept an eye out for them as he slithered through the undergrowth, and it wasn’t long before he caught a glimpse of the younger of the two. Eve was perched comfortably on a wide rock, with her head tilted back and her eyes closed, simply basking contentedly in the sun’s golden rays. Never one to squander an opportunity, Crawly slithered up onto the rock beside her, settling his coils so that the scales were catching the sunlight just right - and oh, wasn’t that pleasant?

He’d definitely thought up quite a few fiendishly charming opening lines that would let him quickly win Eve’s trust and swiftly proceed to figuring out how to most effectively influence her for Evil. Numerous, practically infinite ways he could initiate this conversation to ensure it then played out to his advantage. Just… first, a quick wiggle to the left to catch the sunlight on that patch of scales…

Ten minutes later, Eve opened her eyes to discover a gigantic snake curled up in a luxurious, sun-soaked slumber beside her, and let out an involuntary “Oh!” in surprise, accidentally waking Crawly from the newly-discovered delights of his first-ever snooze. “I do beg your pardon, dearest serpent,” she continued, “I did not hear you approach! You must think me terribly rude, but I assure you, I did not mean to ignore you.”

“Hhnnhssssh?” Crawly replied intelligently, his brain still more than half-addled by sleep and sunlight.

"And now I’ve woken you!” cried Eve in distress. “Oh, I do apologise.”

“Not t’worry, not a problem,” Crawly managed to say, shaking his head slightly and desperately trying to remember all those clever lines that he’d definitely been thinking over just moments ago, “Didn’t entirely mean to, uh, what’sss that called, anyway? That, uh, eye-closing activity? Has it been given a name yet?”

But Eve was looking at him askance, and Crawly has just enough time to wonder if he had accidentally revealed his demonic nature through his ignorance of earthly customs (but seriously, he needed to find out all about that lying-down-with-your-eyes-closed business as soon as possible, starting with its proper name and detailed information about how he could do it again, and besides which, it was hardly _his_ fault that Hell hadn’t provided him with a guidebook for this new planet) when she burst out in a whisper, “You can _talk_? I thought it was only Adam and I who could do that!”

Ah. His mission briefing had also failed to mention _that_ little detail.

“Oh, well, you know, it’s just a little trick I picked up recently,” Crawly managed to stutter out, mind whirring frantically as he tried to cobble together a plausible-sounding lie. “Quick learner, and all that, I’m sure all the other beasts will catch on soon enough as well.”

Eve pursed her lips as she stared wide-eyed at him, seemingly deep in thought. In a desperate attempt to distract her, Crawly shifted upwards so that they were at eye level and continued, “Anyway, that hardly matters, the past is behind us and all that - the important thing is that now, if you ever feel like talking to someone new, all you have to do is look for your old pal the serpent!” And he flashed his fangs at her in a serpentine grin, before realising that this was perhaps not the most reassuring course of action and settling back on his coils in a somewhat less-threatening stance instead.

“Oh!” Eve blinked, then a small smile curled across her face. “I must admit that Adam… well, he is my steadfast partner and my true companion-”

“Quite, yes, of course,” murmured Crawly absent-mindedly, fighting back a yawn.

“-but, well, his conversational skills are,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “not exactly his most-developed attribute.”

Snakes do not have ears - at least, not in the sense of appendages that can prick up attentively - but if they did, Crawly’s would have been practically wiggling off his skull.

As it was, he simply said “Is that so?” in a perfectly casual tone of voice that belied the smugness he was feeling. A flaw! The Almighty’s new favourite pet had a flaw! And Her _other_ new favourite pet had willingly pointed it out! Surely there would be some sort of metaphysical ramifications for this!

(There were not, but as we have already established, it is possible that this was only due to the fact that Gossip had not yet been declared a Sin.)

“So,” Crawly continued, keeping his voice calm with no small degree of effort, “I suppose you’re in the market for a… a confidante of sorts, then?”

“A _confidante_ ,” Eve echoed, rolling the unfamiliar word over her tongue (truth be told, Crawly had just invented it there and then - one of the marvellous things about The Beginning, he would often muse in later days, was that there was so much inventing to be done, and so much delight to be found in doing it; devilish delight, that is, Crawly would of course never dabble in any other kind). “Do you know, dear serpent, that sounds rather lovely.”

And when Crawly instinctively gave an answering grin to the tentative smile she bestowed on him, Eve did not even consider flinching at the sight of his bared fangs.

\---

“So, tell me more about these guardian angels up on the walls,” said Crawly.

Three days had passed since Crawly had first slithered onto that sun-drenched slab of rock beside Eve, and in his professional opinion, his efforts in service of the cause of Evil on Earth were going rather swimmingly. Not that anything had actually been _accomplished_ , mind you, but he was gradually earning Eve’s trust and figuring out all the ways she’d likely be most susceptible to influences of a demonic persuasion, and really, this kind of groundwork was far more important than any actual act of Temptation.

At least, Crawly was fairly certain that was the case. The art of Temptation had only just been invented, and its rules hadn’t been codified yet, though that task was certainly on his to-do list.

(It is worth noting that Crawly never did get round to the Codification of the Rules of Temptation, even though it remained at #8 on his to-do list for the larger part of six millennia - sometimes moving up to as high as #5 on the rare occasions that he actually got round to doing some of the other tasks he’d been charged with - before he eventually gave up on it and everything else on his to-do list as a futile endeavour and turned his attention to more worthwhile pursuits.)

Eve hummed for a moment before answering, her attention still largely focused on the vague pattern she was weaving into the palm fronds in her hands. “Well, each of the angels is the guardian of one of the gates, and they rarely venture down from their positions on top of the wall, so Adam and I have not had much contact with them, although they all gathered to greet us when we first arrived, and introduced themselves.”

“Oh, is that so? You wouldn’t happen to remember any of their names, would you?” Crawly asked, more out of idle curiosity than anything else - his memories of his time in Heaven were fractured and dim, no doubt as part of the consequences of his Fall. Ridiculous, really, in his opinion - after all, if Heaven is really as great as it’s cracked up to be, wouldn’t it be a more painful punishment for him to know exactly what he’d been cut off from? But in any case, it was highly unlikely that any name Eve could mention would ring a bell.

“I do, in fact!” Eve had set down her tangled palm fronds, and was now looking rather pleased with herself. “There was Hadraniel, who spoke first and has quite an imposing stature; I believe he guards the North, and is their leader of sorts. Then there was Nithael of the Western Gate, who did not speak at all, Arariel of the Southern Gate, where the rivers join and flow outward, and Aziraphale of the Eastern Gate, who was always smiling. Oh, and he had a flaming sword!”

 _Aziraphale… Aziraphale…_ The name reverberated in the too-empty caverns of Crawly’s mind, seeking memories that had been scourged from his psyche, until, finding nothing to latch onto, the echoes faded and died.

The look of child-like glee on Eve’s face at having remembered all four names faded as she took in the snake’s sudden unnatural stiffness. “My dear serpent?” she began tentatively, and with a start, Crawly realised that he was holding himself with the uncanny stillness of a predator about to strike. With an effort, he shook off the feeling of decaying memories shifting in their graves, and forced a smile.

“Ah, well, yes, great! Angel names, really impressive that you remembered them all. Great, yes.” Crawly was aware that he was babbling, and from the look on her face, Eve wasn’t fooled by his attempt at deflection. However, she didn’t pry, just sat looking at him with an expression of abject puzzlement on her face, and somehow that was worse.

“Oh alright,” said Crawly, approximately 0.8 seconds after mentally vowing that she could look as baffled and dejected as she liked, but he could _not_ be bothered explaining all that to her! Definitely not! Oh, very well then. “The thing is, the last of those names… well, it sort of seemed to ring a bell. Seemed, uh, familiar, y’know what I mean? Only, I don’t _remember_ anything that would explain that feeling.” And then, seized by a sudden burst of inspiration, he continued, “Maybe my memories from before I learned how to talk have gone all funny! Everything certainly seems a lot clearer since then, so maybe it’s just that I knew this… _Aziraphale_ before that.”

This was so close to the truth that it could almost have been a metaphor. Except it wasn’t a metaphor, just a lie, and besides which, metaphors wouldn’t be invented for another few centuries yet.

In any case, Eve’s eyes widened hugely, seemingly taken in by the deception, this time. “Oh, my dear serpent! What a strange circumstance! Of course, you remain unique among the beasts in your knowledge of our speech, so I suppose it should not be surprising that you are unique in other ways… but the loss of your memories seems to me quite the greatest tragedy that I have ever heard of.” (It was. Tragedies were thin on the ground in Paradise on Earth.) Just then, her sorrow-filled eyes lit up, and she exclaimed, “I say! Perhaps if you were to speak to Aziraphale, the familiarity would bring your memories back!”

Crawly felt the cloying nausea of fear trickle down the entire length of his serpentine spine (a demon daring to approach an angel, a demon daring to seek a means of escaping their eternal torment, even in part, nonono _no_ he’d seen what had happened to those who tried that during the Heavenly War and he wanted no part of that smiting and righteousness and self-righteousness and divine wrath directed at him), but choked it down and said instead, with all the feigned nonchalance he could muster, “My oh my, you’re a clever one, Eve. Next thing, you’ll be figuring out how I learned to talk in the first place -” and, with another burst of inspiration, “d’you know, I reckon I’ve forgotten that too, now that I think about it.”

Eve preened slightly (an instance of Pride, chief among the cardinal sins?), but then waved a hand at him dismissively (no, not quite, not yet, Crawly will have to try harder than that). “I do have some idea, yes, but I rather think that you are the clever one, my dear serpent! You’re the only beast who has dared to seek the means of learning to speak, after all. But yes, you agree that you should speak to this angel, then?”

Crawly almost let out an involuntary squawk of fright mixed with indignance; fortunately, snakes cannot squawk, so he was spared that minor indignity. “Eh, well now, hold on a minute, I didn’t say that - seems a bit hurried, dunnit? I’m not even sure I ever knew the fellow, and he’s probably got a lot on his plate, guarding the wall and being all angelic and what-not, what if he just tells me to go away? It’d be awfully embarrassing for both of us, I’m sure.”

Eve had that thoughtful look on her face again. “Well then, there’s only one thing for it - we must investigate!”

“Investigate?” repeated Crawly.

“Of course! We can keep an eye on Aziraphale, and I will try to speak to him again, and we can discuss our findings to see if his character sounds familiar to you. Agreed?”

And so it was that the First Woman of Earth and the Serpent of Eden set aside a portion of each day for the sole purpose of gossiping to their heart’s content about the angel Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate.

\---

Seven days later, Crawly was sunning himself on the rock where he and Eve met each day for their regularly scheduled gossip session - or their “Aziraphale Discussions”, as they called them. On this particular day, Eve was running late, but Crawly wasn’t worried - she presumably had a good but innocuous reason, given that there wasn’t actually anything in the Garden of Eden that could possibly cause any harm to come to Eve.

Well, there was Crawly, but he hadn’t done anything. He’d know if he had. Of course, he’d have to do something eventually, that was his entire Mission, but there was no rush on that account, so there was really no sense in disrupting the Discussions before they’d run their natural course.

Soon enough, he heard footsteps, and a moment later, Eve emerged from the undergrowth, positively beaming. “I have great news, dearest Crawly!” she called out to him as she approached.

(Eve had brought up the topic of names a few days ago, leading Crawly to admit that he already had one. It still didn’t sit right, “Crawly”, but it admittedly sounded better coming from a friend’s lips. And it was the only one he had, these days, so he supposed he’d better start getting used to it.)

Eve plopped down beside him on their rock, and without preamble, launched herself into an account of her day. “The angels walked among us today! Well, Hadraniel stayed on the wall to ensure we were still guarded, but the Almighty sent word to the other three that they should familiarise themselves with the world they protect, so Adam and I spent the day showing them around.”

Crawly fought down a shudder - he hadn’t realised that the angels had been so close by today, and inadvertently crossing paths with one of them could have spelled disaster for him - and focused on the rising coil of excitement in his gut instead. “So you actually ssspoke to them?” he asked Eve, who nodded enthusiastically.

“Indeed! Nithael and Arariel were reserved in their replies, but Aziraphale - who is,” she added in a rather arch tone, “the only one who really matters to our investigation anyway - oh, he was simply bursting with enthusiasm! He was constantly asking me questions about the plants and animals that Adam and I look after, and how we’d gone about naming them…” The corner of Eve’s lip curled into a tiny smirk, and she continued, “Although I’m not convinced he was paying that much attention, as he asked me the same question about the same plants on more than one occasion.”

Crawly let out a snort of laughter. “Maybe he’s just not good with plants, eh? Bet I’d have far more skill with them than him, anyway.”

“I do not doubt that you would, if you only had arms like ours, dear serpent!” Eve replied indulgently, before continuing, “Aziraphale also smiles more than any other being I have ever met, as though everything he encounters is a delight to him. Have you noticed that, in your observations?”

Crawly had noticed that. Crawly had noticed an awful lot about Aziraphale during his time spent hidden in a bush near the stretch of wall that Aziraphale patrolled, starting with the charming way he crinkled his eyes and pursed his lips when squinting into the distance, the careful but occasionally clumsy way he handled his flaming sword (unfortunately not a euphemism - of course, those hadn’t been invented yet either), the way he occasionally rocked back and forwards on his heels with an expression of utmost contentment on his angelic features… oh yes, Crawly had noticed quite a few things about Aziraphale over the past few days, and was entirely content to continue noticing these things even if none of them provided any clues whatsoever about Aziraphale’s possible role in his past life.

He said none of this aloud, though. Instead, he replied, “Oh, absolutely. Big smiler, that one. Suits him too, wouldn’t you say? Really lights up his whole face when he smiles.”

Eve nodded in agreement. “You’re absolutely right - and his face is far more pleasing to look upon than the faces of the other angels anyway, but the smiles really do improve it even further!”

Crawly grinned - he hadn’t bothered to take more than a peek at the other three angels, but that had been more than enough. “Couldn’t agree more - and have you seen that ghastly frilly thing that Nithael wears? Aziraphale’s robe is far more tasteful - and flattering, for that matter-”

The bright light of the afternoon sun was fading to twilight by the time they parted, that day. Although the conversation had stretched over several hours, there was a single line from it that had lodged in Crawly’s mind, reverberating there even into the next morning: “He was constantly asking questions.”

 _Oh, Aziraphale, whoever you are to me_ , Crawly thought to himself with no small degree of bitterness, _I know all too well the desire to ask questions_.

\---

On the sixteenth day since Crawly had arrived in the Garden, it was him who was a tad late for his daily meeting with Eve - he’d noticed that Aziraphale was the _only_ angel guarding the wall that day, and had taken extra care to move stealthily while heading towards their rock, lest the other three happened to be lurking somewhere in the Garden where he might run into them.

When he eventually arrived, Eve greeted him with her usual smile. “Crawly! I have some very interesting news!”

Crawly took a moment to arrange the coils of his body so that all his scales were catching the sunlight to his satisfaction before responding. “Interesting news, eh? This wouldn’t be related to the missing angels on the walls, by any chance?”

Eve beamed. “You are quite right, as usual! Last night, Aziraphale came to visit for a few minutes, and he told me that the other three angels have been reassigned to Heaven - something to do with boo-rock-racy… or was it blue rocks… blue rocks racing? No, that cannot be right…” she trailed off with some degree of puzzlement.

Crawly, who was already all too familiar with the torments of bureaucracy - one of Heaven’s very first inventions, which had led more than one angel to head Downstairs in hopes of getting away from it, only to discover to their horror that Hell had appropriated the general idea and expanded upon it at length - ignored that part in favour of focusing on the more salient information. “Reassigned? You mean they’ve gone for good?”

Eve shrugged. “I cannot say for certain, but Aziraphale did imply that he would be Heaven’s only permanent representative on Earth for the foreseeable future.” She smiled suddenly. “However, he has promised to continue meeting with me for our daily chats, even though he now has an even greater expanse of wall to guard! I thought that was very kind of him.”

“Huh.” After the angels’ compulsory tour of the Garden, Aziraphale had started descending from his post on the wall of his own accord for at least a few minutes each day to spend time chatting with Eve (and occasionally Adam, although like Eve before him, he had soon discovered her to be the more engaging conversational partner of the two) and strolling through the Garden to explore the delights it had to offer. Clearly, Crawly thought to himself, the angel was enjoying those chats just as much as he knew Eve enjoyed reporting back to him about them later.

“Anyway, I have come to the conclusion that this is a perfect opportunity for you to go and talk to him yourself!” Eve continued, and Crawly felt his full attention being forcibly wrenched back to what she was saying. “He will be visiting the Garden again tomorrow morning for a few minutes, and, well, I told him that I had a very special beast I wanted to introduce him to, and he seemed to like that idea, so I do not think he will be irritated if you approach him - but even if he is, he will have to leave quickly to get back to his post, since the other angels are gone! An ideal situation!”

 _And none of the others will be around to smite me on sight, if something goes wrong_ , Crawly added mentally, deliberately overlooking the fact that Aziraphale would be just as capable of smiting him, if he should take that notion into his head. Out loud, almost unable to believe that he was actually going along with this lunacy, he said, “So you’ll introduce me to him, then?”

“Oh no,” said Eve, and Crawly felt a simultaneous rush of relief (Eve would remain ignorant of his true nature!) and panic (Eve wasn’t going to be there for moral support?!). “I rather thought that you might like some privacy? I would not want to intrude.” Once again, Crawly found himself marvelling at his friend’s intuition, even as she continued, looking oddly mischievous, “And besides, I have other plans for tomorrow - I have my suspicions regarding how you learned to talk, and I want to test them! So I shall take Adam to the Tree of Knowledge to see if I’m right.”

Crawly barely registered that last part - all his focus was on the rush of adrenaline and fear triggered by the thought of coming face to face with Aziraphale - and maybe his own past - the next day. As though from a great distance, he heard himself ask, “Well then, do we need to make any special plans for this meeting? Or do I just show up in your place and start talking?”

Somehow, the tinkling sound of Eve’s laughter soothed him; surely, Crawly thought to himself, surely nothing will go too terribly wrong tomorrow.

\---

The next morning found Crawly nervously waiting in the spot Eve had pointed out - not pacing, exactly, nor wringing his hands, since snakes are tragically incapable of accomplishing either of those activities in a satisfactory manner - but even in his serpentine form, he was exuding enough nervous energy that anyone with an eye for such things would have been positively blinded by it.

After waiting anxiously for half an hour (as he had arrived half an hour early), Crawly was rewarded for his patience by the sight of Aziraphale softly stepping into the clearing, flaming sword tucked safely into a sheath on his back, glancing around in an obvious attempt to spot Eve. Gathering his courage (and, when that failed, his curiosity), Crawly took a deep breath and slithered out to meet him.

Sensing movement, Aziraphale looked down in his direction, and exclaimed, “Oh, good gracious, what a glorious creature! I say, you’re a large fellow, aren’t you?” And he reached down, as though to stroke Crawly’s scaly head. Already panicking slightly, Crawly allowed it, half expecting the angelic touch to sear his demonic flesh - oh, no, not at all. Instead, it was the warm caress of sunlight, but so much brighter, flowing through each fibre of his being from the point where Aziraphale’s hand met his scales and bringing comfort to each lonely atom that held him together and _oh, is this what I used to be? This light and wonder? Is this what was stripped away from me?_

Crawly jerked back, out of Aziraphale’s grasp, barely registering the hurt expression on the angel’s face before he burst out, “Look, sorry, Eve’s not coming - did she tell you I was meeting you instead?”

Aziraphale’s expression transformed into one of astonishment. “You - you can talk! My dear serpent, how on earth did you manage that?” And, almost as an afterthought, “Uhm, yes, I do believe she may have mentioned a special beast she wanted to introduce me to - that would be you then, I presume. And oh, you are special indeed!”

Aziraphale was smiling again, and practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in his excitement. Up close, the happiness seemed to roll off him in waves. Crawly could almost feel it in the air.

It was intoxicating. He couldn’t stand it.

Throwing caution to the winds, Crawly transformed back into the human body he’d been issued, desperately hoping he wouldn’t be smited where he stood - but Aziraphale simply took on that expression of surprise again, not even taking a step back.

“Oh, there you are,” he breathed, then continued, voice climbing in volume, “We’ve been looking all over for you! The intelligence department Upstairs was quite certain you’d arrived on earth over two weeks ago, but we couldn’t find hide nor hair of you to actually, you know, thwart your wiles - oh, but we weren’t looking for a serpent, of course. That was awfully clever of y-” Aziraphale cut himself off mid-sentence with a mildly guilty, I-should-not-be-complimenting-the-enemy look on his face.

“So… you’re not going to smite me?” Crawly asked tentatively, his muscles still singing with tension and readiness to flee.

“Smite? Oh, no, I don’t have any orders to do anything like that. It’s a new age of peace and prosperity,” replied the angel - awfully smugly, in Crawly’s opinion, and popping the ‘p’s in a terribly irritating way. Not endearing at all. Definitely not. Especially not with that accompanying head wiggle. Still, he couldn’t deny that hearing those words let him breathe a little easier.

“Okay. Okay, good,” murmured Crawly, half to himself. “Right, well, I actually wanted to, uh, talk to you, specifically. Um. You see, I don’t remember much from… well, you know, Before, but - I remember your name.” He trailed off awkwardly, feeling terribly self-conscious, barely daring to look the angel in the face. However, Aziraphale was silent for so long that he couldn’t help looking up again, in the end, only to find the angel looking back at him with none of the judgement or hatred he’d expected - only a kind of slow thoughtfulness.

After several moments dragged by, seemingly interminably (if only he’d known, then, how many more moments they’d live through together, and how almost none of them would seem interminable - quite the opposite), Aziraphale replied, “I do believe I recognise you as well, my dear fellow - er.” That same furtive, abashed look crept across his face. “That is to say, I believe I noticed you from time to time, Upstairs, although we rarely exchanged words - and I’m so sorry, I don’t believe I remember your name.”

Crawly let out a hollow laugh. “Don’t worry about it, angel - neither do I.”

“Ah,” replied Aziraphale delicately, looking very contrite. He was clearly casting about for something else to say, and after a moment, he landed on, “So, where did you say Eve had gone?”

“I didn’t,” replied Crawly shortly, still focusing on choking back the whirlwind of emotions threatening to creep up his gullet. “She and Adam were planning to visit the Tree of Knowledge, I think.”

He wasn’t expecting Aziraphale’s posture to shift into an overtly aggressive stance at _those_ words, of all things.

“Oh - oh you wily serpent!” cried Aziraphale in clear distress, seemingly regretting his earlier promise that there would be no smiting today. “You’ve gone and tempted the humans into eating the Forbidden Fruit, haven’t you!”

“The Forbidden Fruit?” echoed Crawly blankly, his stomach dropping.

“The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil! The Almighty’s singular command to the humans was that they not eat it, on pain of death!” Aziraphale had taken a step back, and was actually wringing his hands in distress. “And on my watch, too - oh, She’s going to be so cross with all of us! Well,” he tacked on as an afterthought, in a tone that was almost calm again, “not you, I suppose - you’re only doing your job, really. And better than I’ve been doing mine, it would seem!”

Crawly was, for the first time in his life (well, as far as he could remember), speechless.

Aziraphale, by contrast, continued rambling, seemingly half to himself as his eyes glazed over slightly: “There’s really nothing for it, I shall just have to go and explain - well, intercede, you know, on their behalf - make sure that the Almighty knows there was foul play involved, that they deserve a bit of leniency…” He trailed off into a momentary silence, before his eyes focused on Crawly again for a second and he added, “So sorry to cut this chat short, but I really ought to see what I can do to help sort this dreadful mess out.”

And with that, Aziraphale turned on his heel and strode off into the forest, leaving Crawly dumbfounded behind him - but only for a moment. Forcibly gathering his wits, Crawly shifted back into his serpent form and began slithering through the Garden faster than he’d ever moved before, desperately hunting for any trace of Adam and Eve’s tracks and hoping (not praying, never again) that he wasn’t too late.

\---

He found her at their rock. Of course, he had looked for the Tree first, and locating it had been a simple enough task, but the only remaining indicator of the humans’ former presence there was a single apple core, discarded on the ground.

Eve was wearing some kind of garment - fig leaves, woven together with far more skill than she’d ever been able to manipulate the palm fronds. Adam’s work, perhaps? Or a sign of the knowledge the tree had granted her?

Her head snapped up at Crawly’s approach, and she jumped down from the rock. “Crawly! I am so glad to see you, my friend - I believe I have made a terrible mistake.” Seemingly unconsciously, her hands smoothed down the fronds of her leafy garments. “I thought that the Tree of Knowledge was perhaps the source of your speech, and that our abilities would be similarly enhanced if we ate of its fruit, but-” her voice cracked, “all I have gained is the certainty that God will punish us for disobeying Her.”

Crawly’s mind had been whirling during his entire mad dash across the Garden, but a number of facts - five, to be precise - had taken umbrage at being tossed around with the rest and had planted themselves firmly at the forefront of his brain. To whit: firstly, Eve had eaten something she shouldn’t have because she assumed Crawly had already done so and experienced nothing but positive effects; secondly, everything Crawly had ever told her supported this assumption; thirdly, the Almighty tended to visit swift and merciless punishment on those who went against Her orders; fourthly, Aziraphale was intending to advocate for leniency on the grounds that everything was Crawly’s fault; and finally, this was exactly the sort of trouble Crawly had been sent upstairs to cause in the first place.

There was no way out of this, but there might be a way of redirecting the blame. Not fully, perhaps, but enough to cushion the blow… and maybe even earn him a promotion into the bargain.

That was definitely Crawly’s main motivation here. After all, it would be unseemly for a demon to have intentions any purer than that.

“Lisssssten to me,” he hissed, his tail involuntarily lashing in distress when Eve drew back slightly at the harshness of his tone (which was admittedly laced with a force of persuasion that was not entirely natural), “it wasss all a trick, and you fell for it. You believed all those little hintsss I dropped about - about new knowledge, and all that, and you went and did the exact thing I was trying to tempt you into! Just as I planned!”

Eve reeled back as though he had physically struck her, the sting of betrayal piercing deep. For a moment her lips moved soundlessly as she grasped for words, before a spark of rage found kindling and anger blazed across her face. “Betrayer! Deceiver! You may rest assured that I will not hesitate to inform God of your actions, when She walks among us next!”

“Yeah, you tell Her!” Crawly shot back. “It was a great plan! Masssterfully crafted! I want everyone to hear about it, not just God!”

A single earth-shaking _crack_ sounded in the distance, on the other side of the Garden - not a sign of the first thunderstorm, though it was brewing in the distance - this was the sound that heralded God’s descent to Earth for Her daily evening stroll in the Garden with Her creations.

It was the last time that particular sound would be heard for quite some time.

Crawly saw the trembling in Eve’s shoulders, the fear in her eyes, and in a gentler voice he added “Go on then. Blame it all on me. It’s what I deserve, we both know that much.”

\---

In some respects, the Biblical narrative is extraordinarily accurate indeed. This is especially true when it comes to accounts of the punishments and retribution meted out to those who have, in the eyes of another, earned it.

Humanity’s final hours in the Garden of Eden are no exception.1

\---

When all was said and done - the humans banished, the Almighty withdrawn to her own plane of existence, the flaming sword placed in the hands of a mortal who was never supposed to wield it - Crawly summoned his courage, and made his way up the wall to where a lone angel stood looking out over the endless expanse of the desert, towards the two dark specks moving across the distant sands.

Everyone seemed to have believed the initial lie; now it just had to be fortified, enshrined in their minds as one of the unassailable facts of history.

“Well, that went down like a lead balloon,” said Crawly by way of greeting.

The ensuing conversation progressed stiffly for a few minutes; Crawly threw out one conversational hook after another, but the newly distant, disapproving set of Aziraphale’s mouth seemed to rebuff the mere notion of biting at any of them (not, of course, that Crawly was paying undue attention to the angel’s lips). Aziraphale gave each question and comment only the curtest of replies, and was barely even looking at Crawly, who was beginning to lose hope of ever unravelling the lost threads of this missing connection between them, until:

“Didn’t you have a flaming sword?”

Many conversations fail to live up to the expectations of those who initiate them, for an astoundingly wide variety of reasons. Many people will assume that this is due to some fault of their own, that they have somehow caused offence or said the wrong thing in the wrong way; those of a more self-important temperament may instead come to the conclusion that their conversational partner is simply a duller individual than they had previously given them credit for, and lose interest in them entirely. However, the truth generally falls between these two extremes, as truth is wont to do; in many cases, it is simply a sign that the other individual’s attention is being held hostage elsewhere.

That was, in fact, the exact problem marring the conversation taking place atop Eden’s eastern wall, at least until Crawly accidentally plucked the precise shape of Aziraphale’s worries from his mind and gave them voice. A flash of guilt across the angel’s face, a sudden stutter, and a furtive glance away alerted Crawly to the potential opening here - and even if this line of interrogation would bring him no closer to answers to his own questions, Crawly had never been one for letting these kinds of opportunities sail by.

“Lost it already, have you?” he prodded, a sly grin curling in one corner of his mouth.

Aziraphale’s response was so muted as to be almost inaudible. “G-gave it away.”

“You _what_?!” The words burst from Crawly’s lips almost reflexively, right before the force of his surprise drove the power of speech from him entirely.

But no matter - finally, _finally_ , Aziraphale’s full attention had been drawn to the conversation at hand, and he took up the burden of continuing it without even noticing that Crawly had dropped it. “I gave it away! There are vicious animals-”

Crawly’s jaw was hanging far lower than he had given it conscious permission to drop, but as the angel continued rambling, pouring out his anxieties both over the dangers facing the humans and whether or not he’d made the right choice in giving them the sword, Crawly found that he couldn’t quite find the wherewithal to snap it shut again. Aziraphale still hadn’t managed to stem the flow of words (“...and she’s _expecting_ already, and I said...”), and as those words registered - proof that this angel, at least, was capable of kindness and not just the aloofness that seemed to define their kind, proof that this kindness had been directed towards Eve in her hour of direst need, proof that Eve would have some measure of protection outside the sheltering walls of the Garden - Crawly felt a rush of warmth bubble up from a chamber deep in his heart that not even the forces of divine wrath had managed to seal away. It was a familiar affection, tinged with an echo of memory - of listening to kindly words always directed elsewhere, of lingering in deserted hallways just for a glimpse of pearlescent curls, of whispering a name to himself in darkness ( _Aziraphale, Aziraphale, Aziraphale_ ) while wondering why no other angels acknowledged this kind of love ( _we are beings of love, are we not?_ ).

Crawly looked away for just a moment to gather himself, as a lost piece of his soul slotted back into place. Beyond the initial dreamlike flash of illumination, the memories remained out of reach, but he could sense their shape - a space left vacant in his heart, that said _oh, it’s you - oh, I have always loved you from afar_.

When Aziraphale’s ramblings finally drew to a halt, Crawly was surprised to find that, somewhere along the way, he had regained the power of speech, and with it his prized prowess in the art of gentle teasing (“Oh, you’re an angel, I don’t think you can do the wrong thing!”) - apparently, as the revelation had rippled through him, it had also brought a kind of peace. But of course, it was still imperative to keep the lie going, so Crawly sprinkled his speech with a few more allusions to “that whole ‘eat the apple’ business”, until the storm clouds rolled in and all conversation ceased, while Crawly huddled closer to Aziraphale and the protective shelter of his wing.

“I suppose I should tell you,” murmured Aziraphale, a few minutes later, “Eve did request that I pass on a message for you. A bit of an odd one.” He swallowed nervously, glancing at Crawly out of the corner of his eye, as though to gauge his reaction. “She said, as she was leaving the Garden, ‘If you see the serpent, remind him that my memory does not have empty spaces, so I remember everything he told me, and I have figured out the trick he played. But also remind him that the Tree is not a source of all knowledge, so there are some things that I still do not know, even though he may know them or maybe even remember them, and I think that is terribly unfair and really ought to be remedied.’”

\---

Seven months later and a hundred miles east of Eden, Eve stands in the door of her tent. Adam and the flaming sword are away stalking a herd of gazelles in the hopes of turning one of them into dinner; Cain is swaddled in the world’s first baby blanket for his afternoon nap. Crawly, in his snake form, is facing her, hesitant and still fearing that he has misunderstood the message Aziraphale passed on all those months ago.

But Eve smiles. “My dear serpent! You have kept me waiting for far too long - I have been most anxious to hear about your meeting with Aziraphale. Or... perhaps there have been more meetings since that first one? It has been a very long time, after all, so I hope you have a great deal to tell me!”

Without further ado, the Serpent allows the exiled Lady of Eden to usher him through her door. They do not speak of Temptation, the lack thereof, or the Fall - not this first time. There are happier, more interesting topics of conversation readily at hand.

Gossip has still not been officially declared a sin; centuries must pass first. A great deal of gossip will pass from ear to ear before then; much of it will be shared in that tent, and will revolve around the angel Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden, who has once again become the subject of the aforementioned Serpent’s deepest, fiercest, most undemonic affections.

In retrospect, it really is quite astounding that gossip was not declared a sin sooner.

###### Footnotes

1See Genesis 3:8-23.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading; comments are always greatly appreciated <3


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